


When Inquiring About Love

by sockssoft



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, FemJohn, Femlock, Fluff, They love each other, University AU, trans girl Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:10:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6937228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockssoft/pseuds/sockssoft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this was commissioned by my friend acacia @crowndetective. much love and i hope you like the soft lesbeans<3</p>
    </blockquote>





	When Inquiring About Love

**Author's Note:**

> this was commissioned by my friend acacia @crowndetective. much love and i hope you like the soft lesbeans<3

“Would you still love me?”

The light fell over Sherlock’s angular face, her reflection projected in the shadows of the dormitory. John lounged on her girlfriend’s bed, draped over the pale sheets like a regal seal on the shore.

“What, love?” John asked lightly, her eyes soft and imploring.

Covering her flat chest with her slender hands, Sherlock gulped and pulled up the eggshell blue sundress by its straps.

“Would you?” she asked, bitter, eyes spun in a thread of desperation and hardness. Stern in her question, as if waiting for the shadows in the room to consume her.

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Sherlock, but the answer is yes.” John sat up then, her hand clenching and unclenching. She sniffed, somehow dutiful, and whispered, “I’ll always love you.”

In the intensity of the declaration, Sherlock turned back around, facing herself in the mirror. She scoffed.

“Always an utter romantic, John.”

“Oh you,” John chuckled deeply, falling back down on the bed with a _plop_. “Shouldn’t we be studying?”

Yes, they should have been; the remnants of study guides and doodles of molecules (turned to doodles of their uni professors) discarded on the floor and bed. John picked up a loose piece of paper and squinted at it.

“Sherlock, this just looks like drawings of bees.”

Turning around, Sherlock replied, “That’s because it is drawings of bees, John,” while snatching the paper from her hands.

She smoothed it out and tacked it on her wall with a flourish, flicked her wrist at the collection of honeybees prancing around the margins while her curly hair bounced from her quick movements.

“Bees are much more interesting that the bland nonsense that professor spews.”

John snorted, crossing her arms playfully. “That professor? Do you know his name?”

Sherlock shrugged. “ _Erm_ , the one with the spots?”

This made John giggle, her eyes closing while lines crinkled beside her eyelashes, lines that would get more pronounced when she would get older. Sherlock smiled at her, rocking on her heels as John calmed.

“Bees are a tasteful exploration,” declared Sherlock.

“Come here, love, please?”

Sherlock grinned madly and climbed onto the bed, practically splayed on top of John. She wrapped her arms around her and pressed her cheek to John’s chest, hearing the reassuring beat collide with hers. Sherlock hummed contently until John slid down, until John held Sherlock completely in her strong arms.

“Someone’s a needy girl,” John whispered.

“You’re needy for my neediness,” retorted Sherlock, pressing herself into John’s embrace.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, in which Lestrade came poking her head in.

“Uh—right,” she said, looking at the very guilty cuddling being done. “What about the group study, yeah?”

Sherlock nudged herself up, squinting at Lestrade, and then glancing at her hair.

“Out of all the colors, you decided on grey?” sneered Sherlock lightly, her head tilted in a vain attempt at mockery.

Lestrade absently touched her newly dyed hair, feeling the silky, silver shortness around her ears.

“It’s different,” she shrugged. “And besides, Molly likes it.”

Sherlock huffed. “Oh for God’s sake.”

“Sherlock,” John admonished. “And just so you’re aware, we _are_ studying. Sherlock’s doing excellent work on—”

“ _Hm_ ,” Lestrade scratched her head busily, scanning the room and its discarded papers and bee doodles displayed on the wall. “Can I comment that this place looks cleaner than usual?” she laughed gruffly.

“That’s because I’ve cleaned it _up_ ,” Sherlock replied, head held up with dignity.

“Did you now?” John asked, turning to her, surprised.

Sherlock bit her lip. “I—you know. Straightened it, a bit.”

John smiled gently, giving a nod. “You did well.”

“Alright!” Lestrade burst. “I’ll get going then. I might as well drop this class anyway. Forensics is much more interesting.”

Sherlock perked up at that, losing her trance in her girlfriend’s eyes.  

“Would you be my connection?”

Lestrade stared at her in confusion.

Rolling her eyes, Sherlock said, “Oh, come on, Lestrade. You aren’t fooling anyone. You’re taking this class because of Molly but you want to get into police work, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time any longer because when I need you in the future you need to be respectable enough where I can walk onto your crime scenes and—”

“Sherlock, what are you even on about?”

“Murder!” Sherlock exclaimed, as if it was absolutely clear.

“On that note,” Lestrade waved farewell and closed the door behind her.

“Murder, John,” murmured Sherlock, nosing at her neck.

Giggling, John reached for Sherlock’s hand and held it.

“Such sweet sentiments,” she joked.

“Well it wouldn’t just be murder investigations. I’m talking about robberies, adultery—”

John squeezed her hand. “And what would you do with that?”

“Help the victims, of course,” she replied, tilting her head. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“My little hero.”

“I’m fairly tall, John,” she grumbled. “And heroes don’t exist.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, love.”

Sherlock lied back down, her head framed against the light once more. John moved to her side, playing with Sherlock’s hair.

“I think about it sometimes,” Sherlock said softly, hesitantly. “Us, living in a nice flat.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a bit messy, I admit.”

John grinned, humored. “Describe it to me?”

“We have two chairs and we make them face each other and there’s a fireplace perhaps. We solve crimes and you make tea…”

“I make the tea?” laughed her girlfriend. “When do I ever…”

“ _Shh_ …would you still love me?”

“I love you. I don’t know why you keep asking…”

Sherlock sighed, looking at her dress, at her long hands drumming against her stomach.

“If I leave my body how it is right now,” she whispered, shy.

“Sherlock,” John said, placing her hand on her cheek. “I love you no matter what.”

“Even if I don’t continue with transition?”

“You are a girl whether you transition or not. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m comfortable with.”

“I know that, John,” Sherlock rolled her eyes again, smiling faintly.

“Were you concerned with that?”

“Not really. A bit. I’m just nervous what other people might think.”

“Damn them all. Did someone say anything to you? Who was it? I swear if it was Anderson—”

Sherlock laughed, waving her hand at her girlfriend. “No, no. No one said anything.”

John deflated a little, sighing. “Okay, good,” she relaxed, holding Sherlock’s hand tighter.

“I’ll always love you, John,” Sherlock said suddenly after a pause.

“ _Oh_ you utter romantic.”

They kissed on the pale sheets, two women lost in love.

 

 

 

   

     

**Author's Note:**

> sappho should be proud of our daughters.
> 
>  
> 
> *i am not a trans girl so if anything seems offensive that is not of my intention. you can contact me so i can change any phrasing if needed*


End file.
